


Slap-Slap-Kiss

by Marrilyn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Biting, Dom Rowena MacLeod, Dom/sub, F/F, Face Slapping, Kneeling, Love Bites, Slapping, sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 16:24:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16245419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marrilyn/pseuds/Marrilyn
Summary: Reader is being a bad girl. Lucky for her, Rowena knows just how to fix that.





	Slap-Slap-Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a birthday present for my lovely and wonderful friend OswinTheStrange.

Rowena MacLeod was a queen.

Clad in a dark business suit that hugged every curve on her petite body as if it were molded for her with thin, incredibly high heeled pumps and her hair pulled back in a tight, high ponytail that gave her a rather youthful appearance, she was the picture of royalty; She looked almost innocent, childlike, but you knew looks could lie just as easily as words. The witch's face was set in stone; cold, stern, demanding. Your eyes accidentally caught hers, and a shiver instantly spilled down your spine like frigid, chilling water. There was ice in those tempting emeralds, threatening, deadly. Make a wrong move, say the wrong thing, and you would pay.

You couldn't hold back a smile, traitorously delighted, spilling over your mouth.  _ Do your worst,  _ you thought. Any punishment she could dish out, you would happily take.

Suddenly your head whipped sideways, cheek burning like fire licking at your skin.

"What's so funny?" Rowena demanded, voice matching her exterior.

"N-nothing, Mistress," you said quickly.

She slapped you again, sharper this time.

"What did we say about lying?" she asked patronizingly, like a teacher scolding an unruly student.

Oh, you could be unruly. Very, very unruly. She'd seen nothing yet.

"That it's bad," you replied.

Rowena nodded. She stared down at your kneeling form with a look of warning on her face; Dare to say anything, dare to even think it, and she would make sure there were consequences. "And what does telling lies make you?"

"A bad girl," you answered, holding back another giddy smile. Anticipation built up inside of you like a volcano, ready to explode at any given moment; you were like an animal, caged, contained, wanting nothing but to be wild, to be free.

"And what happens to bad girls?"

"They get punished," you shot out a tad too rapidly. Rowena quirked up a suspicious eyebrow. You lowered your head, avoiding her eyes.

"That's right," the witch said. "Bad girls get punished." She leaned down to your eye level and got in your face, her breath, warm, familiar, dancing over your skin. You shivered, heart rushing, nerves on fire. The woman was magic, her closeness itself was enough to send your body into a frenzy. "Should  _ you  _ be punished?"

"Yes, Mistress," you said, and it took everything to contain your excitement. "I was a  _ very _ bad girl."

Rowena smiled. She brought a hand to your bruised cheek. You leaned into her palm. Unlike a moment ago, she was surprisingly gentle, almost comforting. It was a side of her not many people got to see, a tenderness so foreign to everyone yet so familiar to you. She knew your body to a T. She knew what you wanted, what you craved, knew what made you tick. For every push there was a hug, for every shove a kiss. In order to take, she also had to give.

And good god, did she give!

You doubted anyone else could satisfy you the way she did. Just like her magic, pleasure came naturally to Rowena. Nothing was foreign to her; if you wanted it, she was willing to try it. She may have come across as selfish, but in the bedroom she was a giver. All she required in return was submission. Kneel for her, obey her, and she was all yours. Your lady, your queen, your mistress.

Rowena pressed a kiss to your neck, her lips soft against your skin, gentle, as warm as a furnace. A small gasp escaped your mouth at the sensation. She kept going, butterfly kisses flickering over your sensitive flesh. You leaned your head to the side, giving her better access, and she thanked you with a longer, open-mouthed kiss. Each brush of skin over skin sent sparks through your neck, spreading all over your body like sweet, welcome poison. The feeling was addictive; you found yourself craving it, craving Rowena, craving her on you and inside of you like an addict chasing her high.

Rowena's tongue, as hot as her mouth, circled a spot a few inches under your ear. A smile spilled over your mouth; you knew what was coming, and you could only hope she wouldn't be cruel enough as to drag it out. Kisses lingered over the spot, one after another. Your breathing fastened with each one, anticipation building up inside of you like a raging storm. She hadn't even touched you, yet that familiar heat was already pooling in your belly, twisting and boiling in tune with your frantic heart.

Another kiss landed on your neck, then Rowena's lips captured the skin between them and her teeth sank in. Sharp pain shot through you, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around her for support. It lasted for a moment, then the ache melted into pleasure; Hisses and moans fell from your lips, too wild to be contained. Your eyes fluttered closed, and your hold on Rowena tightened. There was going to be a bruise later on, and you would wear it with pride.

Rowena released your skin before replacing her teeth with her lips, latching on. She sucked at the reddened skin, and you gasped, a new rush filling you, sending your body into an overdrive of heat and desire. She sucked and sucked and sucked, relentless, hungry, like a vampire draining a vein for its last drop of blood. She wanted you, all of you. She wanted you a writhing mess under her control, obedient of her every command, every flick of a finger, every glare; she wanted you to be her bitch.

And you would all too eagerly submit.

The pressure eventually loosened. Your breaths stabilized, your hold on her going slack, weaker. She let you lean your head on her shoulder. Her fingers, warm and tender, trailed over your bruised neck, caressing the wound like soft, fine silk.

"Did you learn your lesson?" she asked.

"Yes, Mistress," you replied dutifully.

"You won't lie anymore?"

"No, Mistress."

"I think that's a lie."

You barely held back a chuckle. "I guess you'll have to punish me again."

"I guess so," Rowena agreed. "You're such a bad girl. I don't think you can ever change."

You pouted. "Are you giving up on me?"

"Now why would I do that when it's so delightful to punish you?"

"Sadist," you accused.

"One has to be to deal with the likes of you," Rowena retorted.

"That's fair, Mistress; I'm very bad."

"You are. But not to worry, dear. I know just the method to get you back in line."

Your heart jumped at the prospect. "Promise?"

"Promise." Rowena vowed. A small smile spilled across her lips as she looked down at you, all sternness gone from her face as if it had never been there. Her features were soft, her eyes tender, loving. "Happy birthday, Y/N."

"Thank you, Rowena."

You couldn't have asked for a better present.

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by the awesome hotdiggitydammit.


End file.
